


The First Deal

by kansas_byrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Not Beta Read, Priests Raping Kids, Rape, weird gross violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23540149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kansas_byrne/pseuds/kansas_byrne
Summary: Dean Winchester thinks about past homes he's been in while he tries to decide if he's going to leave the safety of Sonny's.Especially the home run by priests.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/OMC
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	The First Deal

**Author's Note:**

> I put it in the tags, but I know this is a legit trigger for some people, so hey... priests do things to Dean as a child. Not beta read, 1am rambles.

Not every place had been like Sonny’s.

It didn’t take too long to realize just how good he had it there. Hell, five seconds after meeting Sonny, Dean knew. He’d never feel the weight of this man on top of him.

Before he’d been caught with a loaf of bread down his shirt, he and Sammy were discovered doing their laundry alone by some cop. Neither of them would speak, so they were farmed off by a well meaning judge to a local boy’s shelter run by priests. The one in charge was a grey haired, smiling servant of God who wore small silver spectacles and had a huge vegetable garden in the back. He’d teach the little Sunday schoolers how to weed and pull carrots. A pillar of the community. Sweet old ladies brought him cake every holiday.

Dean knows what he sounds like when he comes. The priest lets out this soft curse just before he spurts, hands like a pair of vises around his hipbones. Or his head, fingers buried to the root in Dean’s hair. Dean knows how his dick smells, the musky scent of the cologne the man wears. Like it’s a date.

Sammy was little, and he got along okay with the other kids, but Dean saw this guy watching. So he decided to be proactive.

Dean Winchester, only fourteen and making deals like a champ.

Every night, on his knees with his mouth open, tongue out. Waiting for the bitter taste and hot spray across his face. Saying thank you. Praying.

Or perhaps, pants down, fucked brutally over the old vintage desk. That was always something akin to a special staff get-together. Raped by each priest in the place trusted enough not to blow the whistle. Dean let the tears run down his face. It excited them. It kept Sammy safe.

Every thrust he took instead of his brother. Every time he choked on a thick cock, his brother was safe.

When John came to get him, Dean was on his knees, being plowed in each end by a sweating, grunting man with a white collar. The man in his ass died coming, his blood and brains splattered all over Dean’s naked back. Somehow, the asshole who ran the place got away. John didn't care to persue it.

Every now and then, John will look at him, and Dean knows he’s thinking about what he saw. He’ll never let Dean forget it.

Dean looks out the window. Sam is playing with an airplane. If he stays, Sonny will never hit him. Never abandon him or make him steal food so he doesn’t starve to death. But if he does, John will do something with Sam.

He can’t hunt with a little kid. Even if Sam is twelve, he’s different. He’ll put him somewhere. John knows priests. Hunters.

Out the window, his father looks over and smiles.

Dean Winchester leaves the first real home he’s ever known. For Sam.


End file.
